The Elder Scrolls: Black Marsh
by The Warlord X
Summary: When a mysterious disease affects the Hist trees of Black Marsh, and threatens to turn all of Tamriel into a desert waste, one Penitus Oculatus agent and a band of unlikely heroes must find the culprit behind it and save the Empire. Post Skyrim, heavy OC.


**The Elder Scrolls: Black Marsh**

**Chapter One: The Mission**

* * *

Half a year before the start of it all, if you had looked up at the skies above the eastern part of Cyrodiil, you would have had a clear view of the heavens, unless clouds were blocking the way. But now, that had changed, for a strange green haze, like a fog, was settling over the land, swept up by eastern winds, drifting and spreading strange moist spores onto trees and houses and even people. At first it was light and seemed only an odd curiosity, but all that started to change the summer of year 229 of the Fourth Era of Tamriel.

The air was hot and sticky, and from atop the saddle of his horse, Silas could see large groups of commoners bathing in Lake Rumare. He had come in from the gold road, a long way from the verdant fields of the gold coast, and he had a wide view of the Imperial city, a ring of white marble structures, stepped houses and wooden piers all pressed into each other around a focal structure; the White-Gold tower, an ancient monolith that seemed to reach up into the heavens themselves. It was one of the most beautiful things that Silas had ever seen, even though he had seen it once before.

Silas rode his way down the road, taking about half a day to approach the city's main bridge. The sun was already setting, and Silas feared himself late. He was coming in not to meet just anybody, but he had been summoned by the Emperor himself, Mandon Gravius I, a man who had ruled Cyrodiil ever since his uncle, Titus Meade II, had died at the hands of a dark brotherhood assassin in the dissident province of Skyrim. It had been some time since then, and Skyrim was now a free and independent nation of its own, but Mandon had so far done a better job of ruling than his uncle had. The Thalmor were appeased, the harvests were good and taxes were better, days like these gave Silas hope for the future.

Or would have, if not for the strange clouds of green that floated down, covering everything. They were starting to pool up on the Lake, he could see. When he had woken that morning to saddle his horse, he had found the beast covered in the stuff, and required to be wiped clean of it. It was a strange phenomenon, and it worried him. According to farmers from the regions farther east, they had gathered up in so many quantities, that they were killing crops and reducing the fertility of the soil, causing it to erode quickly. People were also finding it harder to breathe as well, and windy days would make impromptu storms of the spores all around, like sand. What it was, nobody was quite sure, and Silas wondered if the business with the Emperor would involve this. Or maybe he would be sent to Valenwood again, to spy more on Thalmor operations. Either way it did not matter, he would serve his Emperor in whatever he needed.

But, Silas still felt a little unnerved by the sight of all the green stuff. It smelled earthy and was greasy to touch. After paying the toll to enter the city through the main gate, and coming into the Talos Plaza district, Silas could see all around people still at their business, but there were at least three or four merchants that were outside their establishments, using brooms to sweep up the mysterious green flecks. Other than that though, it seemed like an average day in the Imperial city, and was much like Silas remembered it when he had last visited, four years ago.

The clamor of carriages passing by on the cobblestone streets, the cries of traders hawking their over-priced goods, and the march of guardsmen in their crimson raiment all collided together in the heart of the Imperial city. Beggars plied their own trade by the great dragon statue, a fearsome beast carved out in ancient grey stone. Silas smelled the spice of market barbecue and the stink of unwashed bodies crammed up close to him. He was aware that pick-pockets were a big problem here, so he kept his guard up, occasionally nodding to a passing member of the City Watch.

The melodies and harmonies of street musicians on flutes and lyres drifted over the clamor of voices and feet, and people of a hundred different lands and cultures mingled together. Silas could see many Imperials, Bretons, and Nords, but also a fair amount of furred Khajiit and scaly Argonians, and even the odd Orsimer or Dunmer as well. But of course, there were no Altmer, as they were not welcome in the city anymore. The few that remained lived in the slums outside the city, their properties seized when they were ultimately discriminated against. Their kind had not been gentle in the battle of the Imperial City, so many years before, and old wounds still hurt deeply.

Silas weaved his way to the crowd, until he approached the gates of the Imperial Green Way. Security had tightened since the Great War, and a large contingent of the Legion was awaiting him, ready to kill if he did not have the proper clearance.

"Halt!" a rough-faced guard in steel armor said to him, "Who are you, and what is your business with the Emperor?"

Silas reached into his breast-pocket and pulled out a small piece of parchment. On it, was the seal of the High Commander of the Penitus Oculatus, Mentoris Matharen, a wood elf. The guardsman looked at it and then said, "Welcome, Captain. Right this way."

The gates opened without delay, and Silas went in. He had his horse stabled. The areas around the Imperial palace were blanketed with green and topped off with old tombstones, some of then with script unrecognizable inscribed on their faces. According to legend, it was here, that the Hero of Kvatch discovered a secret script that led to the hideout of the infamous Mythic Dawn cult, the group that had assassinated the Emperor with their Daedric powers. If there had been time, Silas would have liked to see that script for himself, but alas, he had more important business to do, and so he continued up the steps to enter the Imperial Palace.

When the Aldmeri Dominion had sacked the Imperial City some fifty or so years before, they had burned many of the decorations and anything to do with the Imperial regalia, hoping to restore it to the glory it had seen during the days of the Heartland High Elves, the Ayleids. However, they did not hold the city long enough to make many changes, and so the White-Gold tower was back to its state of reinforcing Imperial might, as little as it was those days, Dragon banners hung up from the arched doorways. The Empire now only had control of Cyrodiil, High Rock, and the northern portion of Elsweyr. The last bit was re-added ten years before, when the Aldmeri had attempted to conquer Black Marsh, but had found the new, independent Argonian empire too strong. The Empire had allied itself with the Argonians, and driven the Aldmeri out of Elsweyr. Appreciative of the Empire coming to their aid, the Argonians decided to give the northern half to Cyrodiil, while they claimed the southern half. The Argonians themselves could not hold all of such a large territory, especially one populated by their long-time rivals, the Khajiit. Since then though, the Empire and the Argonians had become rivals, and in turn spied on each other, but dedicated to coming to each other's aid if the Thalmor decided to get any ideas again, an alliance of necessity.

But even though the glory days of the Septims were long gone, you wouldn't have thought that by the Elder Council chambers. Silas entered a large room with a high, open ceiling. The floors were made of polished marble, and a large circular table was set up in the middle of the room, some twenty or so high-backed chairs set up around. Torches blaze in sconces all around, and guards were stationed at every entrance and exit. Council was not in session that day, so the room was empty, save for one pompous Breton that was making his way over to Silas.

"Ah," the man said in a flowery, languid accent, "You must be Captain Artherias, straight from Anvil."

"Yes, my lord," replied Silas respectfully, with a half-bow, "I have come long by the summons of the Emperor."

"Excellent. I am Council-member Breauneau Morrard. I am here to escort to the Emperor's private meeting room. You must have come such a long way, and are weary, so we will have refreshments waiting, and then after, you will be shown to your quarters."

"Of course," said Silas, as he followed the man up some stairs.

They went up five flights, until Morrard turned left and walked them down a long hallway. Servants looked away and continued what they were doing, silent as the grave. Silas paid them no mind, and followed the Council-member into the room at the end of the hall. Inside was a wooden desk, a bookcase filled with old tomes and scrolls, and a small table that had a decanter and a bowl of grapes upon it. There was another table to the side of the desk with more appetizing fare, including tea, seed-cake, and fruit, and standing by the fireplace aside from it was the Emperor of Cyrodiil himself.

The Emperor was a truly regal man, with high cheekbones, pale skin and a man of sheen brown hair that matched the beard on his chin and cheeks. He had eyes of a deep blue, the same as Silas, and he stood even taller than the Captain himself was. Silas knew that the Emperor had once been the commander of a Legion himself, during the Stormcloak rebellion, under the command of General Tullius. His side of the royal family were people who believed that leadership had to be earned, and that had made Mandon a better leader than the Meades had been.

He wore the customary Imperial robes, with the plush white collar studded with black amethysts, the sleeves and shirt made of a dark purple, with a vest of red and gold over it. The Emperor turned to Silas and said, "Ah, Captain Artherias. Please, take a seat. Breauneau, send for Tak right away."

"Yes, m'lord," Silas and Morrard both said at once.

Silas took a seat across from the Emperor, somewhat in awe of the Emperor's casual manner. The Emperor then said, "Will you have refreshment?"

"Of course," Silas did not want to be rude, so he took a seed-cake and poured a cup of tea. He ate, and it was quite good and sweet, but he tried very hard not to spill any crumbs, as that would be quite rude and ludicrous. The Emperor seemed to wait on him to be done, but when Silas said he could wait, the Emperor waved the notion away and said, "We must wait for Tak."

No sooner than Silas had begun to wonder who Tak was, he found out.

A golden-scaled Argonian walked into the room, wearing a leather cuirass and greaves, but with iron plate gauntlets and boots, a sort of patchwork assortment of armor. He wore no headgear, giving a good display of the rainbow feathers on his head. The Argonian was no doubt male, his snout extremely lizard like, and two curled horns on either side above the ear-holes. He walked, did a half-bow, just like Silas had done and then turned to face Silas.

Silas got up and offered his hand. The Argonian gave the Imperial a look of searching, his eyes reading and looking deep into Silas' own, and for a second Silas thought he might refuse the offer of friendship. But in the end, the Argonian took Silas' hand and they shook. Then, Tak said, "I am Tak, Captain Artherias. It is good to make your acquaintance."

"Likewise. My lord," Silas said to the Emperor, "Is he one of ours? Or Black Marsh's?"

"Ours," the Emperor said. A Penitus Oculatus like yourself, although of the Black Hand."

Ever since the Penitus Oculatus had failed to save the life of Titus Meade, all those years ago, the order had been revised for the addition of the Black Hand, whose operations were more close to what the Blades had done for centuries before their destruction during the Great War. They would act in complete secret, and were often beings who trained in shadow and had magical abilities in the schools of illusion and mysticism. Penitus Oculati like Silas were skilled but they did missions that didn't require as much discretion, while the Black Hand were spies well and true, and proud of it.

"Black Hand eh?" Silas said, "Where did you receive your training?"

Tak smiled, "Argonia. First, as a Shadowscale, then later as a spy for your Empire."

Silas wanted to ask why, but believed it impudent, at least in the presence of the Emperor. He had to have faith that Emperor knew what he was doing. Obviously, if Tak was Penitus Oculatus, he had proven worthy of the rank.

"Alright," said Silas, "My lord, my sword and life are yours."

"I have looked over your record," the Emperor began, "You have several impressive commendations, Silas, already gained several war accolades by the ripe age of thirty, and recommended highly by Mentoris Matharen himself. Care to comment?"

"I will not be falsely modest, but my aims are true to the Empire, first and foremost."

"Good," the Emperor picked up a piece of parchment and read, "You first joined the Legion at the age of sixteen. You were born in Anvil, but saw action first during the Elsweyr Campaigns, fighting against the Thalmor and their Khajiit insurgents."

"Yes."

"Then, you were selected for advanced training in the Penitus Oculatus. You were sent on a series of missions to gather intelligence from our spies in Valenwood, as well assist in local resistance efforts against the Thalmor there. You did three tours, and requested a forth while on leave? Why?"

Silas loved his Empire and would die for it, but the main reason, the reason that he could not share as to why he had requested to go back to Valenwood a fourth time, was that he had simply fallen in love. He had struck up a relationship with a Bosmer woman, a member of the resistance. She would not leave her homeland, so long as the Thalmor were occupying it, and Silas wanted to be with her. Her name was Jaena, and she was a fierce but also tender lover. Silas simply replied, "I have a great respect and love for the Bosmer warriors. I wanted to continue my work there against the Thalmor. Due to us, we have severely hampered their operations there, and even have taken some of the mobile cities there, however, I understand that there are things that are of bigger concern, and will go where I am needed without hesitation."

"Ah," the Emperor smiled, "so you already have suspicions of why you have been called?"

"A few, to be certain," he replied.

"Morrard, leave us. This business is sensitive."

The politician left the room, and only Silas, the Emperor, and Tak were left in the room. The room experienced a bout of silent before the Emperor gave Tak a nod. The Argonian said, "Surely you have noted the green clouds and spores?"

"That was one theory of why I was here, but yes, I have noticed it."

"It is spreading throughout the lands, going farther and farther away with each passing day. It has spread to Elsweyr, Morrowind, and even parts of Skyrim already, and is making its way west. Its carried by the winds, but also by the sea. And...it has a curious affect on soil and plants."

"And that is?"

The Emperor said, "In large enough quantities, it kills them. It erodes the soil, makes it unfit for planting crops. Already, crops are failing in Cheydinhal and Leyawiin counties, and further winds that pick it up will turn it into a desert before long. We believe that soon, it will spread over all of Tamriel, and maybe even beyond to Akavir."

"This is definitely a problem," Silas agreed, "But I am a soldier. What good is a blade against this natural phenomenon? Is this the work of some Daedra?"

Tak spoke, "The phenomenon started in Black Marsh, and spread out. After getting my hands on government documents and talking with informants, the King of Black Marsh's generals and scholars have deduced and confirmed that there is a sickness in the Hist trees, and that it is causing them to produce these strange spores."

"Hist trees? Aren't those the living trees that your people build their cities around?"

"No, we are not Bosmer, we do not live like that. They are revered by us, and we are their children, but we live in the swamps and rivers. The central part of Black Marsh is almost entirely made of swamp, areas that only Argonians can reach. The capitol city is a floating fortress that goes to routine landings to pick up traders and move them around. Or it did...until it strangely disappeared."

"Disappeared? How does someone lose a city?"

"Like I said, its mobile, meaning its within the depths of Black Marsh. How anybody could take the city, I have no idea though. No army has ever taken the heart of the province, not even your Septim Emperors."

"So, the Hist trees are sick and are producing plant-killing spores, the capitol of Black Marsh has disappeared...what else?"

"We need to find the cause of this. We've been able to rule out that this isn't a natural phenomenon. The Hist trees were made sick by magic. Before the capitol went missing, some mages figured that out using spells of mysticism detection. Some unseen force is doing this, and is spreading the disease from the center out. At that time, there were about some hundred trees infected. If this isn't stopped though...there are literally millions of Hist Trees throughout the province, including smaller ones along the coasts. If each one of them can produce a ton of spores..."

Silas gasped, "The entire continent will soon be turned into a wasteland."

"Exactly," the Emperor said, "And since this was caused by magic, then that means we need to find the culprit. If all of Tamriel is weakened, who else would gain from that?"

"My lord, surely the Thalmor are not stupid enough to do that? What would they gain from destroying the continent they wish to conquer?"

"I don't know Silas, but we can't assume anything. As of now, we don't have any evidence of any other parties. I would shudder to think if this is the hand of some Daedra thinking its playing a funny trick on all of us."

"So where do I come into this then? If the problem is in Black Marsh, why send me instead of Tak to find out? He's an Argonian, he can get places where I cannot reach."

Tak frowned and shook his head, "This is where I must swallow my pride. My cover was blown, Silas. I can not ever return to Black Marsh. I have been deemed a traitor, and unfortunately I was cursed to be born with a scale-color very rare in Argonians, as you probably could have told. For the time being, I would not be of much use. But do not worry, we have found you the perfect cover to do some investigation, and hopefully get close enough to the culprit to take them out, or at least give us a fighting chance."

"How?"

"A Thalmor agent under the guise of a merchant is hiring mercenaries for an expedition under the pretense of getting the bounty for finding the Capitol and saving the royal family and will be leaving in two weeks. Most likely, the Thalmor is trying to get information same as we are, but we need to know whether or not they are involved. You will pretend to be a mercenary, an easy feat for you, and get hired by the Thalmor. Then, using whatever actions you deem necessary, get to the Capitol and find out who is poisoning the Hist trees, so we can stop them before its too late. If its not the Thalmor behind this, then find out who."

The mission was dangerous. The interior of Black Marsh was untamed territory, a land only made for Argonians. It was a place of dangerous creatures and plants of pitfalls and dark waters. It was possible that Silas would lose his life, and never be able to return to Valenwood and helped his beloved free her people. But, he had sworn his life to his Emperor as well, and there was no going back now, short of treason. Silas nodded slowly and said, "Alright, I am ready for this. Just tell me how to get there, and give me the tools, and I'll find out what we need. I can see that this is the most important mission I will most likely take on in my life, for if I fail, all of Tamriel will fall. Therefore, I will not fail."

The Emperor put his hand on Silas' shoulder and said proudly, "Then go, Silas Artherias, may the Nine watch over you and keep you safe."

"May the Nine watch over us all," said Tak.


End file.
